


sugar pink liquor lips

by istalria



Series: i swear i only fell for you on accident [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: F/M, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Post-Canon, allison and kevin are awkward fifth wheelers, honestly not much though for an aftg fic, the foxes go back to eden's twilight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24368506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istalria/pseuds/istalria
Summary: She’s grinning before she realizes it, because the whole situation is so beyond ridiculous that she has to laugh.  She’s havingfunwith Kevin Day, and some small, distant part of her is revolted, but—This was a terrible, terrible idea, because Allison likes it.
Relationships: (background), Kevin Day/Allison Reynolds, Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: i swear i only fell for you on accident [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759423
Comments: 14
Kudos: 96





	sugar pink liquor lips

**Author's Note:**

> i threatened y'all with more kevallison, and more kevallison you shall receive >:) 
> 
> enjoy the ride, darlings!

Eden’s Twilight is packed on Halloween, stuffed to the rafters with costumed partygoers. Allison eyes a man dressed as a banana and knocks back another shot. 

“Okay, okay, what about that guy?” Nicky asks, pointing. 

Dan and Matt crane their necks simultaneously to make out whichever unfortunate soul Nicky thought might win their _who-has-the-most-heinous-costume-here_ game. 

“No way, man,” Matt says. “My guy was way worse.”

“She was a woman,” Dan says.

“Case in point, babe.”

Allison, unable to see past the mass of their entwined forms, turns her attention to Neil. Neil had flatly refused to let Nicky pick out his costume again and enlisted Allison to help him find something less outlandish than last year’s zombie cowboy outfit. It wasn’t quite the shopping spree Allison’s been waiting to spring on him since he first arrived at Palmetto, but she managed to sneak a few new, decently fitted shirts and some designer jeans into the mix before he noticed, so it wasn’t a total waste. 

Neil had rejected her attempts to put him in a slightly revealing gladiator costume—honestly, the chest plate covered most of his scars, and she doesn’t see what his issue with the skirt was—but settled for dressing as a police officer. Allison suspects he agreed mostly for the irony of it; he definitely smirked when he was trying it on at the mall. Whatever the reason, he looks hot, especially with the eyeliner she’d persuaded him to wear; all in all, she’s pretty satisfied with Neil’s appearance. She was even more satisfied with the way Andrew’s eyes had locked onto Neil when she released him from the bathroom after doing his eyeliner, grabbing his chin to survey the makeup and letting go with feigned nonchalance. 

Allison wasn’t stupid enough to comment, but the look Andrew shot her said he felt her smugness regardless. He should have been thanking her, really, but then, Andrew is a bastard.

“Hey Neil,” she says, dragging his attention away from Andrew, who, predictably, glares at her. It’s more than a little creepy, what with the painted-on smile of his Joker costume, but she just gives him a sweet smile before tugging Neil closer. “Smile!”

He doesn’t, but Allison snaps a few pictures anyway. She leans in and presses a kiss to Neil’s cheek, startling him into a laugh, and promptly takes a few more. 

“Alright, enough,” he says, but he’s still grinning as he shoves her away. 

She rolls her eyes at him, but releases him back into his Andrew-orbit and flips through the photos she’d taken. She’s definitely adding some of these to Dan’s wall; they’ve been largely unsuccessful so far in getting Neil to relax in front of a camera.

 _Eat that, Matt_ , she thinks viciously. She wants to gloat—he’d bet that he could get the first shot of Neil actually smiling—but not right now. She’ll collect her twenty bucks later—his and Dan’s forms have morphed into one vaguely androgynous shadow, and Allison isn’t inclined to separate them; she’s pretty sure she heard a moan coming from their corner of the table, even over the loud music.

She reaches for another shot, but comes up empty. Casting her gaze around, she catches Kevin in the act of knocking back the shot that was definitely in front of Allison not thirty seconds ago.

“Asshole,” she says, swiping one of his in return. “Thought you were sobering up.”

Kevin casts a cool look at her. Disturbingly, it works well with his Roman emperor garb. Allison wouldn’t say it’s _intimidating_ , per se, but the laurels wreathing his head aren’t quite as stupid-looking as she’d been hoping. 

“It’s Halloween,” he says. “Everyone’s drinking.” 

_Not Renee_ , she could say, but that’s a moot point. Renee never drinks and is dancing right now anyway, dragged off by Nicky with Aaron and his cheerleader girlfriend tagging along.

“Yeah, their own drinks,” she says. “Hands off mine.”

She doesn’t bother injecting the words with her usual venom, maybe because Kevin does have significantly less alcohol in front of him than she’s ever seen before, especially on a night out. Maybe because she can’t help but flash back to the night she’d found Kevin locked out of his room and wallowing in the hallway after Riko’s death and they’d traded drinks and truths and misery, or maybe because when she dragged him into the girls’ living room to sleep off the hangover and heartache he’d caught her wrist and said _thank you_ so sincerely she didn’t have the heart to tease him.

Or maybe it’s just Halloween, and she’s feeling generous.

Kevin rolls his eyes, sipping from the tumbler of whiskey he’d abandoned to steal her shot. “You can afford another round.”

“So can you,” she says pointedly, and he raises his glass in acknowledgment.

Allison glances around, winces at what was _definitely_ a moan from Matt and Dan’s tangled forms, and stands abruptly, smoothing her hands over her thighs. She’s dressed as Elle Woods this year, pink from her stockinged feet to the tips of her bunny ears.

“Dance with me,” she says, holding a hand out to Kevin. 

Kevin looks baffled, not even bothering to come up with a rude retort. “Me?”

“Who else would I be talking to?” she says. “Yes, you.”

When he doesn’t react, she flutters her fingers impatiently. It seems to snap him out of his trance, because he goes back to looking imperious.

“I’m not dancing with you,” he says. 

“What, you’d rather stay here and play fifth wheel?”

Allison looks pointedly from the dark mass of Matt and Dan’s entwined bodies to Andrew and Neil, who aren’t technically doing anything inappropriate for public viewing but are conversing lowly in a language Allison doesn’t recognize. She doesn’t think it’s German, but it’s loud enough in the club that she supposes it’s possible. Whatever they’re saying makes Neil’s face glow noticeably pink and puts an expression dangerously close to a smirk on Andrew’s face.

Kevin follows her gaze between the two couples and grimaces as he realizes his options. He heaves a sigh—which is more than a little insulting; Allison is wearing a fucking corset and not much else, and he should consider himself blessed to get any of her attention, honestly—and takes her proffered hand. 

“Fine.”

“See? Now he gets it,” Allison says, and leads him away from the table.

She dodges the awkward circle of Renee, Nicky, Aaron, and Katelyn on the outskirts of the dance floor—well, awkward mostly because of the vastly differing levels of both skill and effort being applied—and drags Kevin into the heart of the crowd.

They’re surrounded by people on all sides, costumes and the volume of patrons forcing everyone to pack tightly together. Allison slings her arms around Kevin’s neck, cackling when he hesitantly slides his hands up to her waist.

She has to lean in even closer to shout in his ear, “Loosen up, grandpa!”

A flicker of irritation crosses his face, and he yanks her against him without warning, sending her stumbling in her five-inch heels. Allison slams a hand against Kevin’s chest for balance, but grins up at him. 

“That’s more like it,” she says.

And this was a terrible, terrible idea, because Kevin is a good dancer. He has none of Nicky’s flailing enthusiasm or Aaron’s stiff reluctance, and once he passes that initial hesitation he starts moving, smooth and fast under the flashing neon lights. Allison isn’t one to be outdone, and she’s a great dancer, thank you very much, so she matches his pace until they’re both overly warm in the crush of bodies. She’s grinning before she realizes it, because the whole situation is so beyond ridiculous that she has to laugh. She’s having _fun_ with Kevin Day, and some small, distant part of her is revolted, but—

This was a terrible, terrible idea, because Allison likes it. She likes the grip of Kevin’s hands on her waist, sliding around to her back, and she likes the heat of his neck under her hands. She likes the breathless, reckless laughter that pours from her throat and infects Kevin with a rare smile. 

Allison has never wanted to blame something on alcohol so badly before, and what’s worse is that she can’t. She’s pleasantly buzzed, but she didn’t drink nearly enough to blame her actions on the few shots she’d downed before abandoning the table. 

So when she presses herself up against Kevin and rakes her hands up into his hair, nearly dislodging his stupid laurel wreath that absolutely does not look good on him, it’s all on her, and they both know it.

When Kevin inhales sharply, tugging her impossibly closer and sliding one hand up to tangle in the ends of _her_ hair, it’s all on him, and they both know it.

When their mouths collide, Allison isn’t sure who to blame.

She gasps into the kiss, yanking Kevin down to her. He doesn’t have far to go, not with her painfully high heels, and she’s worried for half a second that he’ll overbalance before she stops worrying about anything at all.

Kevin’s fingers are tight on her waist and in her hair, and she drags a groan out of him when she digs her nails into the skin of his neck, and it’s all so impossibly, undeniably _good_ that she hates it, because Kevin Day is not supposed to be good at any of this. Kevin Day has an Exy racquet shoved so far up his ass she’s surprised he can walk most days, much less dance and kiss like he was born to it. Kevin Day has his tongue in her mouth and his hands all over her and she _likes_ it.

She breaks away, sucking in a breath. Kevin’s a wreck, hair wild around his head and lips swollen and lipstick-stained, and his eyes are wide when they meet hers. Allison’s sure she doesn’t look much better.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she says, because it doesn’t.

“Right,” Kevin says.

“We’re just drunk,” Allison says, even though they’re not.

“Right,” Kevin says again.

“Okay,” she says. “Great. You want to get out of here?”

He blinks at her, eyes shockingly green under the pulsing lights.

“Yes,” he says, and she grabs his hand to drag him back through the crowd.

**Author's Note:**

> god, i'll never escape these two, will i? there's still definitely more of them i want to write, so y'all are just gonna have to bear with me
> 
> thank you to everyone who read this, and i hope you enjoyed!
> 
> stay fabulous!!


End file.
